


playing the odds

by SinginInTheRaine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Mission Fic, Missions Gone Wrong, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinginInTheRaine/pseuds/SinginInTheRaine
Summary: He should have known better. He should have been more prepared. He should have kept a better watch over her.





	playing the odds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SatiricalDraperies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatiricalDraperies/gifts).



He should have known better.

That was the only thing in his thoughts as he lay on the hard ground, exhausted, his entire body sore, a pain he rarely felt ripping through his side.

He should have known it was a trap. He should have known better than to let the two of them go off without backup. He should have been on higher alert.

Should have, should have, should have.

It had been the first weekend in the sixth months since the new team had all started training together that they had let them have a vacation of sorts. Natasha had been the one to insist it was a good idea.

“We can’t keep them here forever, Steve,” she had said a few days earlier, her mouth full of a peanut butter sandwich as she stared at him over the top of it.

“They’re Avengers, Nat, not prisoners.” He’d reached over, stolen the other half of her sandwich from her, ignoring her glare.

“Exactly,” she’d said, “so give them a weekend off. It’ll be good for them.”

But the training, he’d wanted to argue. The world had been getting more and more dangerous. It was like Sokovia falling out of the sky had somehow unleashed a slew of people who thought they could handle power better that any person who had come before. On top of that, the sightings of the man they used to know as Rumlow had been getting more frequent. Any belief that he had died when SHIELD fell had long been disavowed. 

But even with all of that weighing on his shoulders, Steve had known Natasha was right. The team needed a break. They weren’t going to be of much use to anyone anywhere if they ran them ragged from training too much.

Besides, he told himself, he and Nat could probably use a break too. A couple days off wasn’t going to kill anyone.

But he should have known better.

The call had come early Saturday morning, hours after the rest of the team had headed out. Rhodey had gone into the city to see Tony. Wanda and Vision had gone to the farm to see Clint. Sam had gone back to D.C. to meet up with other friends he’d been neglecting since he became an Avenger. The only ones left at the compound were Steve and Natasha.

Steve had been lounging around in the kitchen, checking to see if they had enough ingredients to make pancakes — it’d been so long since he cooked and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Natasha eat anything other than peanut butter sandwiches — when his cell phone had rung.

“Report of some stolen Hydra tech being used off the Gulf,” Maria Hill had told him. 

“Secret base?” he’d asked. Every time they thought they had found them all, another one popped up, like germs that refused to be vanquished.

“This one appears to be a single-man operation,” she’d answered. “Probably someone buying some stuff off the black market.”

“And we don’t want it to be sold into the wrong hands,” Steve finished for her.

“Or used on anyone it shouldn’t be,” Maria added.

“Right.” Steve looked down at the pancake batter and the milk he had gotten out of the fridge. “Okay. I didn’t need breakfast anyway.”

“It can wait till the team gets back,” Maria said. “I can continue tracking this …”

“No,” Steve interrupted. “Single-man operation? In and out, right? We’ll be home before lunch.”

“Great,” Maria said, “I’ll send you the coordinates.”

He should have known better.

He’d found Natasha out jogging the perimeter of the compound, dressed in a black tank top and yoga pants and white earbuds dangling around her neck. She hadn’t hesitated. 

“Let’s go,” she said, and he stared at her as two pistols almost magically appeared in her hands. He looked pointedly at her outfit.

“Where were you hiding those?!”

She grinned. “Come on, Rogers. We have a job to do.”

He should have known better than to just head off after that.

Especially since it wasn't like he hadn't had second thoughts for at least a few seconds. It was right before they boarded the Quinjet, just the two of them. No backup. No assistance. No one even on comms. 

“You think we should let Sam or Rhodey know where we’re going?” He looked at Natasha as he placed his shield behind his seat in the cockpit. She shrugged at him.

“Single man, in and out?” she said. “We’ll be fine.”

"Yeah," he said, but he didn't feel super sure about the whole thing. Natasha noticed. 

"Don't worry, Rogers. You have me."

He should have known to listen to his gut.

Maria’s coordinates had led to a deserted cabin far off any main road. They'd landed the Quinjet a couple miles away and snuck through the overgrowth. A single pair of footsteps had led toward and away from the front door. Natasha had cocked her guns and nodded at him. He’d picked his shield up and nodded back.

They’d been halfway up the walkway to the front door, treading as silently as possible, he had thought, when out of nowhere they were surrounded. At least ten men in black masks on all sides of them. The one directly in front of them threw something at their feet before he even had time to throw his shield. 

He glanced down, and his stomach recoiled. 

A gas bomb. 

He barely had time to react before it went off, only managing to shove Natasha sideways, to get her out of the path, before it exploded in front of him, even as he lunged toward the man who had thrown it.

He went down as the air turned poisonous, coughing, choking, crawling out of the way. Something hard landed on the back of his neck, knocking him face forward on to the ground. 

He looked up, squinting as his eyes watered. The man standing above him took off his mask. Any air that was left in Steve’s chest disappeared immediately.

“Rumlow,” he sputtered, staring up into the eyes of a man he had hoped never to see again.

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“Hello, old _friend_ ,” he said, voice full of venom, before he bent down and kicked him in the face as hard as he could.

Steve’s head hit the ground again, harder than normal. Pain seared through his body. His muscles felt weak. He tried to blink but he felt woozy. The gas was still affecting him, but he knew it wouldn’t be long until the serum counteracted all its effects. If he could just hold off for a few minutes …

He kept his head on the ground, not even trying to get to his feet. Instead, he took stock. Now that he could count the men, he realized there were eleven. Rumlow, four directly behind Steve, three each on both sides of him and another one further back from Rumlow. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Natasha, where he had sent her when he shoved her, scrambling to her feet. The men were all concentrating on him, leaving her undefended. Underestimating her as usual.

Or so he thought.

“I’ve got him,” Rumlow said to the other men, as Steve’s eyes flickered back forward toward him. Rumlow’s voice, if possible, turned even colder at his next words. “You all take care of _her_.”

Oh, _hell_ , no.

The act of pretending was gone in an instant. The effects of the gas were forgotten immediately. He jumped to his feet, rushed directly at Rumlow, diving at the man and knocking him to the ground — hard. 

But Rumlow was ready for him, and fist for fist, they met each other’s blows. 

Their fight raged on. No matter what Steve did, he couldn’t seem to get the upper hand. Rumlow was pummeling him — in the face, in the stomach, in the back, everywhere.

Steve tried to focus. The man before him should have been knocked out in an instant. Steve should have been able to take him with one arm tied behind his back. But somehow, Rumlow was the one gaining the upper hand. 

Maybe it was the gas, or maybe it was Rumlow …

He was getting tired, so tired. The world was beginning to blur again.

“This time, I win,” he heard a voice say — he thought it was Rumlow’s but it was hard to think — and then he was on the ground, face down, the edges of the world around him going dark.

He should have known better.

•••

“Steve?”

From a distance, he heard a sound.

“Steve?”

He managed to creak open an eye. All he could see was dirt.

“Steve!” The voice was more urgent now, a tad louder.

“Steve!”

It was Natasha. Her mouth was next to his ear. He realized she was touching him, shaking him, tugging on him. He managed to open one eye all the way, then the other. His body ached in a way it hadn’t since he’d gotten the serum.

“Rumlow,” he croaked.

“I know,” she said, “We have to get out of here.”

He realized she was sliding her arm around him. “You’ve gotta get up,” she said.

“Rumlow …” He tried to lift his head and look around. Everything seemed quiet. Deserted.

“Gone for now,” Natasha said. “We have to get out of here before he comes back.”

She tugged on him again. He wanted to argue with her — they needed to find the bastard _now_ — but the world was still blurry, his whole body still felt exhausted …

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There had been something in that gas that inhibited his serum. It was the only thing that made sense. And Rumlow had used it to his advantage.

But why had he and his men left? It didn’t make sense.

He craned his head to look at Natasha. She was still tugging at him as hard as she could, but she seemed okay. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed. But she didn’t seem visibly hurt.

“Why’d they leave?”

“Reinforcements, I think.” Natasha stopped tugging at him. He realized she was panting slightly.

That was when he noticed the bodies on the ground surrounding them. He stared up at her.

She shrugged. 

“We have to get out of here,” she said again. “If they come back, I don’t think I can fight them all off this time.”

He knew she was right. They couldn’t risk it. And he couldn’t just lie here on the ground doing nothing. 

With Natasha’s help, he got to his feet. He glanced around, past the unconscious bodies until he spotted what he was looking for. He hurried over and scooped his shield up.

“Come on,” Natasha said. With her leading the way, they ducked into the woods, slipping silently through the trees, back toward the Quinjet.

With each step he took, each breath of fresh air he inhaled, he could feel his head starting to clear, his energy starting to return. His thoughts focused on Rumlow. If they could find him before he was able to call for reinforcements … If they could look around at the cabin he and his men had been hiding in ….

He stopped in his tracks.

“We should go back,” he said to Natasha. “At least look around.” 

Natasha stopped moving. He realized with a start that when they had first headed out, Natasha had been next to him, holding him up almost. Now, though, she was ahead of him, just slightly. But that wasn’t what worried him.

What worried him was the trail of blood she was leaving behind her.

“Natasha,” he said, almost tentatively.

She turned around. Slowly, almost cautiously.

His eyes widened.

“Nat,” he whispered, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. 

The whole left side of her uniform was covered in blood. Her right hand, which she had placed on top of what he assumed was the wound, was red and dripping. She tilted her head up at him as he stared at her, her face an almost deathly white, her eyes glazed.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, and then she slumped forward.

He didn’t think, just scooped her up in his arms before she could hit the ground, tucking her tightly against his chest. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispered into her hair as he watched her eyes close and he felt her body go limp. “I got you. You’re going to be just fine.”

He should have known better.

•••

“Get in the air, and I’ll take over from there,” Maria had ordered almost before he had gotten all the words out.

He’d wanted to tend to Natasha first, but he knew he couldn’t risk it. If Rumlow came back with reinforcements before they could get away, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fight them off alone, especially not if they brought another gas bomb. And if she was hurt worse because of a choice he had made — well, that he definitely couldn’t risk.

He placed her carefully down in the chair behind the cockpit, strapping her in as quickly as he could.

She opened one eye, just barely, as he tightened the seat belts around her.

“I’m not going to break,” she said, but she didn’t sound nearly as full of bravado as she usually did.

“Not taking any chances,” he told her, testing the straps to make sure she was secure.

“Cap,” came Maria’s voice over the line. “I’m seeing movement about a half mile from you. Get out of there.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He took a last look at Natasha, whose eyes were closing once more, and almost leaped into the pilot’s seat. With Maria’s help from wherever she was at, the engines roared to life, the plane lifted into the air and the cloaking turned on.

He sat back and breathed a soft sigh of relief as they broke through the top of the clouds and the plane turned slightly to head back to the compound.

“I got it from here,” Maria told him. “Take care of her.”

“Thank you,” he told her. “See you in a few.”

Natasha was drifting back into consciousness again as Steve unhooked her from all the seat belts and lifted her into his arms, carrying her back to the gurney they always had on board for just these reasons.

“It’s just a scrape,” Natasha said softly, her voice still a little drowsy, as Steve laid her down.

“That’s doubtful,” he told her. “You want to tell me how it happened?”

“One of them had a knife. I didn’t see it.”

“Too busy knocking out the other ten?”

She smiled a little at that. “Something like that,” she said.

“You know I need to look at it.”

“You just like to see me naked.” This time her lips curled into a familiar smirk.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”

With Natasha’s help, they got her uniform unzipped and slid it off her arms and pulled it down to her waist. The gash was a lot longer and a lot deeper than Steve was comfortable with, but he knew there was no way she would let him take her to a hospital. She never did.

“I can stitch it up,” Natasha told him as she watched him stare at it. He was pressing a whole heap of gauze to her side, counting how long it took for it to turn almost entirely red.

He lifted his eyes to hers. “You know I’m a better sewer than you.”

“You are not,” she said.

“Well, you’re just going to have to hope that this time I am.”

She groaned, but he knew it was a testament to how much pain she actually was in that she let him stitch her up, after numbing the area with alcohol — and letting her swallow a quarter of the bottle first. 

He covered the stiches with layers of gauze and wrapped her entire torso with tape to keep it in place. Then he found her an old shirt that was probably once Sam’s that she could wear since there was no way she was getting her uniform back on and zipped up again.

He sat next to her on the gurney when they were done, letting her lean against him. His arm was around her shoulder, and his fingers played with her red curls, which she had been growing out for a while. Out the windows of the Quinjet, the landscape was growing more familiar. They would be landing within the next thirty minutes or so.

“You’re really okay?” Natasha shifted just a little, turning her head so she could see him as she asked the question.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m okay.”

She nodded. “When I saw you just lying on the ground …” She didn’t continue.

“I know,” he said, then, “I’m sorry I made us come.”

“You wanted to call for backup. It was my stubborn ass that said we were fine.”

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

“No,” Natasha said, “but you do.”

He smiled against the top of her head. “Yeah, I do.”

“We’re going to find him, you know.”

“I know.”

“And we’re going to be ready.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Good.”

They were quiet after that, both of them watching as the plane dropped them lower and lower. They knew Maria would be waiting for them, and maybe even the rest of the team. Things like this never seemed to go undiscovered.

“Steve?” Natasha said, just as the wheels hit the ground.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for saving me.”

“Thank _you_ for saving _me_.”

“Any time, Old Man,” she elbowed him slightly in the side, and he laughed, jumping down from the gurney and helping her off too.

“Come on, Nat,” he said. “I still owe you a plate of pancakes.”

“Only if we can eat it while I force you to watch Star Wars.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Steve said, “whatever you want.” 

And they headed down the ramp of the Quinjet side by side.


End file.
